Seeing the Future
by Jade Paton
Summary: Lauraperfectinsanity's prompt: Fantasy fic. Sam is depressed about being dumped by all his girlfriends and he's convinced he'll never find someone who loves him as much he loves them. Someone suggests him going to consult a psychic to predict his future. And what he sees is not what he expected.


**Title:** Seeing the Future

**Author: **Jade Paton

**Rating: **PG-13

**Warnings:** Talk of blow jobs

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Glee. If I did, Blam would definitely be canon. And if not, Klaine would be much healthier and I wouldn't force them together if they turned out to be bad for each other.

**A/N:**

Written for lauraperfectinsanity.

I did not include kids in the fic as you will probably notice, though it was in the prompt. I tried, but I felt like Sam should see some earlier future, so he could identify himself with the future Sam at least a bit. Also, the kids were just hanging around awkwardly and there was no point to them in the end, so I dropped them. Hope that's not a problem.

* * *

The first thing Sam noticed about the room, even before he entered, was the smell of incense sticks. It wasn't sharp or overly strong, but it was heavy, as if every single thing in the room was soaked with it. He had to blink several times before his eyes got used to the dim light. He didn't notice the woman at first. There were so many other objects lying about, colorful and sparkly or dark and slightly scary to look at. The air tasted like spice and smoke.

He almost stepped back in surprise when he saw her. She was young, vaguely pretty and looked fresh and cheerful, which was in sharp contrast with the room, but if he passed her on the street, he probably wouldn't give her a second look.

"Welcome," she said. Her voice was bright and polite. She reminded him of Blaine with that attitude, though appearance-wise they couldn't have been more different. She was a dirty blonde with a very pale complexion. The only thing that suggested she was somehow different than other people were her eyes. It wasn't the color or the shape but there was something in them that made Sam even more nervous than he had been before.

"Hello," he said and shifted his weight from one foot to another. Despite the fact that he was uncomfortable, this place had already made him feel more alive than he'd felt in weeks. His senses were heightened and his heart was speeding up.

She smiled. Her mouth was crooked, but it was a pleasant smile, honest and welcoming. She gestured for him to sit down on a stool across from her. "Sam Evans, is it?" she said, only raising her voice in question as a courtesy. Of course she knew who he was. It was her job to know.

He nodded nevertheless. "Yeah. My…uh…my doctor sent me here," he said, handing her his medical assessment. "He said you could help me."

She was frowning a little as she was reading, nodding along the way. Finally, she looked up at him and smiled again. "I think I can. Your situation is nothing out of common."

"Really?" he asked. He supposed it could be true, at least from her point of view. After all, doctors only sent people here for a limited number of reasons. He had been diagnosed as borderline clinically depressed with a predisposition to eating disorders which basically made Sam feel even worse, because not only couldn't he manage to do anything in his life properly, even his disorders were only "almost there".

She nodded. "People only really get sent here when there's a good chance that the vision of their future might help them with their issues. And your diagnosis is actually one of the most optimistic ones I've had here over the past couple of months." She gave him an encouraging smile. "This will work better if you get your thoughts in order, so how about you tell me where you think you're going in your life."

Sam snorted. "Is _nowhere_ an answer?" He bit his lip, feeling like he shouldn't be rude to her. He was rarely rude to anyone and he hated when his moods made him snap at people. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's okay. So, you feel like there's no hope for you in the future. Why is that?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it's because…because I don't see anyone there with me, you know? I've always wanted a family. I used to think that as long as I have someone I can share my life with, things are going to be alright."

"And you don't feel like that anymore?" she asked gently.

"No," he blurted out. "No, I still feel like that. But…" There it was again. No, he can't cry now. He blinked the tears away angrily. "But what if there's no one for me? What if people just keep using me as a springboard to their awesome futures? What if they all leave me behind?"

If she noticed that a few of the tears had escaped his eyes, she didn't comment. "Why do you think that could happen?"

"Because they all do that," he replied with a slightly angry tone. "They might like me, they might even love me, but no one ever loves me the way I love them. I'm always the one who gives more into the relationship and they take it and then they leave me."

"Ah," she spoke up, nodding again, "so your past relationships were not successful and you're afraid that it's always going to be this way."

Sam frowned. It wasn't as if he hadn't talk about this with his doctor. "I know it probably sounds stupid, but what am I supposed to think? When I look back at it, there's a reason why they're leaving. There's something better. Something that will make them happier." He made a helpless gesture. "Who am I to stop them? It would just make them unhappy and I mean, I know I'm nothing special, so why would they stay anyway?" He shifted in his seat. "I guess this is it, really. There will always be something or someone better than me. I can't expect people to settle for the second best." He grimaced. "If I'm even that."

She was silent for a while. She studied the papers again and made a few notes on a piece of paper. Finally, she looked up. "The standard prescription is for three sittings," she said in a business-like tone though she was still smiling warmly. "Which means that you can either come here three times and we use the same method of prediction, or we'll get through the whole process today and you will get your prediction through three different methods. Now, in your case," she said, leaning forward a bit, "I would recommend the latter. The first option is good for people who don't know how to move on with their life or what to do and use the sittings to show them directions. You need something more specific."

She stood up and moved around the table towards one of the shelves. She touched a few items here and there, mumbling for herself and shaking her head. She went to another shelf and picked a pack of cards. She opened a glass-fronted shelf and took a vial filled with a purple liquid. In one of the wooden cabinets she found a few other things Sam couldn't identify.

When she returned to her table, she put it all down, but didn't pay any more attention to it. Instead, she picked a marker, showing it to him. "This will be our first method."

"This is not the part where I draw pictures, is it? Because I've already seen a psychologist."

She chuckled. "No." Then she stood up again, walked around the table and sat on another stool closer to him. "I'll do the drawing. I think that you need to get a general idea of what your life is going to look like first. You need to start from the bigger picture and then zoom in on the details. And it will be helpful to me as well. I'll know what period of your life we need to look at." She reached out to him. "Now, give me your hand."

"Oh," Sam said in understanding. "Palm reading." He presented his palm to her. He was nervous and his hand was shaking slightly, but he was also excited. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to be curious about something.

"I'm going to trace some of the lines with my pen," she said, her voice clear and steady. "It will help me to see the whole picture. There are also some lines I don't really need right now. This way they won't confuse me." She was talking in a calm, quiet voice the whole time she was working, sometimes commenting on what she was doing, sometimes making general remarks about the room or her job.

It helped him with his nervousness and by the time she'd finished he was barely aware of the marker tickling his palm. What brought him back to reality was the fact that he didn't feel the marker anymore. He looked down at his palm and blinked. Even though she had said that there were some lines she didn't need, it seemed like she'd barely left any line untraced. And not just lines. There were small shapes drawn on his palm – circles, triangles and squares, sometimes overlapping. It was a mess and he had no idea how she could see any sense in it.

She stared at her work for a long time, mumbling for herself and tracing some of the lines with her finger, frowning or smiling. She only looked confused once, stopping at a very complicated cluster of lines, but after some time she moved onto another area.

Sam watched her the entire time, feeling uncomfortable but intrigued. He didn't say a word, not wanting to disturb her, and prayed that his palms were not sweating as much as he thought they were.

"Well," she said finally, "your life line's pretty long and strong too. And I can see quite a few turning points that we could have a look at."

Sam bit his lip. "Is that a good thing?"

"It depends," she replied. "I'm not about to sugar coat things for you, Sam. I'm not going to tell you that your life is going to be perfect. Not all the turning points will be good. But not all of them will be bad. I might even say that a majority of them will turn out to be very good for you. If you were to be knocked down on your knees repeatedly, it would show here. Your life line would grow more weary and weaker."

Sam nodded. He guessed that sounded nice. At least he knew he's not heading for a complete disaster of a life. "Do you see someone with me?" he asked carefully.

"I can't say. There's definitely love in your life, but it's hard to tell if it's romantic or not. It's tied to this part here…" She pointed at the messy bundle of lines. "This could mean a lot of things actually. Usually, it suggests some kind of dilemma. Something confusing you will have to solve in order to move on with your life. It's a very common thing with the people that come here, but it's also very individual. It's always difficult to tell what exactly it means."

Sam nodded. It didn't really comfort him. Was he really asking for that much? He knew he loved easily and too much sometimes but that wasn't a crime, was it? He just wanted one person that would be like him in that respect. One person that would fall for him like that. He just wanted to know what it felt like to be important for someone.

The woman looked up at him as if she knew what he was thinking. She squeezed his hand a little and then started to show him random places on his palm. "Let's see. These points are important, but they are in your past already, so it wouldn't help us much. We might want to move past the confusing part, but not too far, so the future you wouldn't be someone you wouldn't recognize. This leaves us with five major turning points in your life or something in between them."

"I…" Sam had to clear his throat to get control of his voice. "I'd rather know about some everyday stuff, you know. I want the exciting things to be a surprise."

"Alright then," she smiled and nodded. "I guess we can try to move to something more specific, if you think you're ready."

Sam shrugged. What could he say? He guessed he was ready. After all, he wasn't really scared of the things he might see in his future. He was scared of what he might not see.

She rose and went back to her seat at the table. She took the pack of cards. "These will give us more specific answers, but it's still mostly general compared to the last method. It's a safety net in case there was something we wouldn't want you to see. My job is to show you the happy stuff, though we both know that it won't always be a fairy-tale."

Sam only nodded, not knowing what to say to that.

She spread the cards into a fan and held them in front of him, pictures away. „I want you to choose seven cards and put them on the table in any way you like. Use your left hand and place them face down, please."

Sam did as she told him, his hand shaking and his heart beating fast. It felt like some kind of important ritual and he was scared he would do something wrong.

She smiled at him once he had finished and put the rest of the cards away, looking down at the table. She raised her eyebrow. "Interesting."

"What?" he asked, panicking internally.

"It's alright," she said immediately, her voice calm and comforting. "You turned all the cards upside down so they would face me when I flip them over. Very few people do that. It suggests an exceptionally selfless personality. You think of others before you think of yourself."

Sam blushed and looked down, not sure if that was such a good thing. "Thank you," he said, remembering his manners. He could see she'd meant that as a compliment.

"I'm only telling you what I see," she said, shrugging. "Now, beside that, there's nothing out of ordinary about the placement. The open triangle is common for artistic people. Rational, reason-oriented people usually make a line." She raised an eyebrow at him and for a moment she looked like an excited little girl. "Want to see what cards you chose?"

"Sure," he said, feeling like another shrug or just a nod would be an insult to her enthusiasm.

"This card," she pointed at the fourth card that was the closest to Sam, "is the most important one. All the other cards are related to it. It will tell us what your life is going to be about. Kind of like a general theme in a book, you know." She flipped the card over.

Sam, who was expecting some flashy, mysterious pictures, blinked when he saw a very simple drawing of a heart.

"Well," she said, smiling brightly, "that is kind of self-explanatory, don't you think?"

Sam's own heart sped up again, this time in excitement. "Does that mean I will find someone for me?" he asked.

She sighed. "Unfortunately, no. This can be about various kinds of love. I had a person here, whose greatest love were his books. He also had a heart as his fourth card. We'll see more in a moment though, so don't worry."

Sam eyed the rest of the cards suspiciously.

"We might get the answer from this card," she said, pointing at the card Sam had picked as a third one. She flipped it over and revealed two connected hands. "Well, it's definitely a person, but this card signifies friendship."

Sam visibly deflated. Not that he wouldn't love his friends, but he wanted more in his life too. "So everyone will just want to be friends with me?" he asked bitterly.

She shook his head. "Not necessarily. Just wait a second." She flipped over the fifth card.

Sam frowned at it. There were three lines connected in a triangle. One line was red, another one was green and the third one was blue.

"It's a friendship that grows into a romantic love," she said with a certainty in her voice. "This card is not overly specific, but with the other two, there's a pretty clear connection."

He tried not to get excited about that. This still didn't mean that the other person would return his feelings or that he'd have a happy relationship with them. For all he knew this could be a friend Sam would fall in love with and pine over them for the rest of his life.

The woman must have noticed his mood, because she just turned over the second card, not waiting for him to say something. There was a picture of a book.

"Oh, you have to be kidding me," Sam groaned. "I'm dyslexic. This is not funny."

She just chuckled. "This card usually means knowledge. The card across from it will show us what the knowledge is connected to." She flipped over the sixth card. There was a simple black circle. "You," she said.

Sam blinked. "What about me?"

"The knowledge is about you," she clarified. "You will learn something new about yourself because of this person."

Sam thought that wasn't saying much. He was learning something new about himself all the time. It was a part of being stup…no, Blaine would hate to hear him say that about himself. It was a part of being…simple. He was learning a lot of new stuff.

The woman could probably see that he was unimpressed, but didn't seem worried about it. "These last two are something you will gain and something you will lose. They're also connected to the previous cards." She turned the first card.

This got Sam's attention again. "Money?" he asked. Due to his past he was very aware of the importance of money. Even if you didn't make your life about it, you still needed it.

"This one means career success, but it's usually connected with money, yes," the woman answered. "This is what you will gain by this relationship."

"Do I even want to see what I'll lose?" Sam said, frowning. "I mean, isn't this whole thing supposed to be positive?"

"You don't have to look if you don't want to, but I need to see this one."

Sam hesitated, but his curiosity was stronger than his fear. He leaned forward and blinked in confusion when she flipped the card over. There was a female sign drawn on it. "Oh, great," he sighed. "So, does that mean I will lose this person too?"

The woman seemed slightly confused too. "No, probably not. This card is very unusual in this position and it's almost always very subjective. I had a transsexual guy here and in his case this card signified his physical transformation into a man. In another person's case it was a loss of virginity."

"Uh…that ship has sailed," Sam mumbled.

She laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, I know. This is one of the things I can tell almost instantly. This part of my gift is really almost useless and it can get embarrassing." She waved her hand in a dismissing gesture and went back to the card.

It took a while before she spoke again and when she did, it was mostly mumbling. Sam could see the exact moment when she figured it out. She asked him to show her his palm again and spent a great deal looking at the bundled lines. "That would explain everything," she said, her voice surprised, but still cheerful.

Sam frowned. "So you know what the card means? Will I lose that girl or…"

She bit her lip, looking slightly nervous. "Well, no. Not really. This card, in your case means women in general, I think."

"I'll lose women?" Sam asked slowly, giving her a very skeptical look. "Like my relationship with this one girl will lead to an apocalyptic genocide?" He'd heard the term on The Big Bang Theory and Blaine explained to him what it meant. Sam almost felt proud of himself for remembering it.

She raised an eyebrow at him and shook her head. "How did you figure it will be a girl?"

He opened his mouth to answer and then he froze. Did she mean that this person, this friend that will be more to him in time…did she mean it was a guy? His mind immediately went to Blaine. He tried to imagine himself with Blaine, but it was impossible. Instead his brain kept coming up with reasons why they could never be together.

Sam was straight. Well, he'd never really thought about it like that and he didn't like labels, but he did like girls. A lot. Would he be able to give up girl parts to be with a guy?

But that didn't even matter, because Blaine was with Kurt. They were engaged. And even if Kurt was out of the picture, why in the world would Blaine settle for Sam? A crush was one thing, but a relationship…

Oh.

Maybe that was it then. Maybe he would never be with Blaine. He imagined himself on Kurt and Blaine's wedding, watching them say „I do" to each other. Would that be the moment for him to realize that he's in love with Blaine? Would he spend the rest of his life watching Blaine being happy with Kurt?

"Sam?" the woman said. "Are you alright?"

He shrugged. "I guess so. At least I know how it is. I mean, not that I expected anything better than that."

"Does being with a guy really seem that horrible for you?"

He looked up sharply. "What? No! Of course not. It's just…I think I might have an idea what guy you're talking about and that's just setting me up for an unrequited love."

"You can't know that," she said, shaking her head. "Maybe if you asked him, he'd…"

"He's getting married," he cut her off. "I'm going to be his best man. I suppose this is just like the movie...with a little twist. And without that happy ending."

She seemed to deflate at that and for the first time, her eyes lost some of the cheeriness. "Is he getting married soon?"

"They haven't set the date yet," Sam said. "But he's marrying the love of his life. Everyone knows they're perfect together. Even I know that." He chuckled. "I don't even really have feelings for him yet. At least not that I know of. But I guess it's possible. He's a pretty awesome guy." His lips spread in a fond smile.

"Well, you still have time. Maybe he'll change his mind." She took the vial with purple liquid from her desk and showed it to him. "Would you like to find out?"

"There's no way he would take me over his fiancé. I don't have anything to offer. From what your cards are saying, it seems like I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to be good enough for him even if he's with someone else. Maybe that's why I'll gain success."

She looked at him, her eyes warm and gentle. "The future is rarely as bad as we imagine it, Sam. That's one of the things I learnt pretty quickly. Even if you don't get your guy, you might be surprised at how it all will turn out for you."

He sighed. She made him want to see what the future held for him. He had to admit he was curious. He looked at the vial and then at the other stuff she had taken from her cabinet. Most of it looked like some kind of leaves and herbs. "Do I have to drink that?" he asked, pointing at the purple liquid.

She smiled, shaking her head. "No, this one's for me. I can't make you see the future directly. If you could do that, you would be sitting in my place now. I can, however, make you see what I see." She pointed at the herbs. "That's what these are for. I'll set them on fire and you will just breathe. By the time I get my vision, you should be able to see through my eyes."

Sam looked skeptical. "So, I'm, like, Patrick Swayze and you're Whoopi Goldberg?"

She laughed and shrugged. "If it makes you feel better about it."

No, it didn't make him feel much better, but he fell silent and watched as she lit the burner under a small bowl and put a few herbs and leaves into it. It took a while before something happened and in the meantime, she took the vial, smiled at Sam, and then drank it at one go.

Sam was starting to feel strange. The room was blurry all of sudden, his breathing grew deeper and slower and he closed his eyes. There was a flesh of light. Sam startled, but his eyes remained closed. Another flesh.

Then everything was twisting and turning and his surroundings grew lighter despite the fact that he hadn't opened his eyes. When the world around him stopped, he was standing in the middle of a living room. He looked around, but there was no one there. Not even the woman.

He didn't know this place. It was definitely on the fancier side, spacey and light, but it still felt personal and homey. He could smell vanilla and cinnamon and trees after a storm. The windows were large with a nice view of park and a river. It definitely looked like he was in some bigger city though.

There was a big 3D mural on one wall of what looked like some European city. Sam's artistic eye paused on it, taking in the details and the colors that were used, analyzing and measuring. He wondered if he could actually paint something like this. The style was similar to his own, at least the one he used when he decided to take on some more traditional method than macaroni.

"Do I live here?" he asked, but no sound came out of his mouth. He didn't even feel his lips move. He frowned and looked down to see his body. There was nothing. It took him a moment to shake himself out of the shock and remember that he was supposed to _see_ the future, not _be_ in it.

He could move around the place though. It seemed that whenever he thought about getting closer to the window or walk around the couch, he did. As if he was seeing the flat through a small flying camera. That actually sounded like fun, so he held onto this thought.

The sound of a door opening made him turn around (or whatever he should call it when he had no body). He froze, staring at the person who walked into the room, dressed in loose pants and a white wife-beater.

Somehow, it hadn't occurred to him that he would see himself. He didn't know what he'd been imagining, but it was not this. Not Sam Evans, slightly older, with darker hair and a shadow of a stubble on his jaw. It was weird, really weird. And ironically, it also reminded him of something else. Sam's defense mechanism after the school shooting just a few weeks ago, the imaginary twin Evan, had, in Sam's mind, looked a lot like this older version of Sam himself. And Sam had liked to think of Evan as the person he would actually want to be if he was strong enough.

The older Sam…Evan – he might as well call him that, since calling him Sam just sounded weird in his mind – walked behind the kitchen counter and took some juice from the fridge, drinking it straight from the box. Sam grimaced out of a habit, though he really just felt a stab of envy. He'd never been allowed to do this when he was living with his parents or lately with the Hudson-Hummels. The fact that Evan did this probably meant that this was indeed his home and he felt free to drink his juice in any way he wanted.

Sam supposed it was a bit stupid to envy his older self the way he drank juice. And maybe it was because of something else in the end. Maybe it was the way he held himself. Evan looked stronger and healthier. He was filled out where Sam was trying to get rid of imaginary pouches of fat and managed to look even better as a result. It was confusing. All this time, Sam had thought he was disgusted with his own body because he was getting chubby and yet, he envied his older version, who looked like he probably ate pizza for dinner no problem and didn't stress himself over a skipped morning run.

Sam could almost hear Blaine's "I told you so". He pressed his lips together – well, imagined it at least. It wasn't as if he could give up his routine. If he skipped once, what would stop him from skipping the next day? And the day after that? What would he have left if his body went slack? Not even Blaine would want him then, no matter how many times he had said that Sam was more than his body. No, he couldn't let himself be lulled into a false sense of security.

Evan turned around at the sound of keys in the front door and a wide smile appeared on his face.

Sam held his breath. Someone else had keys to this apartment, which probably meant that Evan didn't live alone? Was it Blaine then? Or did he just live with his friend? Sam looked at the expression on Evan's face. He looked happy. So, so happy and relaxed as if there was nothing in the world that could bother him. Nothing he would have to deal with, no adult stuff he would struggle with. Did that mean…

"Weren't you supposed to work today?" An older version of Blaine walked into the living room and gave Evan a once over. Blaine's hair were wilder, curly and messed up the way Sam was rarely allowed to see. The Blaine Sam knew would never go out without tones of hair gel. This Blaine, it seemed, couldn't care less. He also had something between a stubble and a full-on beard on his face, which was almost a bigger shock than the hair.

Evan shrugged, smiled at Blaine and pecked him on the lips. "I did some sketches and finished the arrangement plan for the next month's exposition. Other than that, there's just the dinner this evening. I hope you didn't forget about it."

"You did some sketches?" Blaine repeated exasperatedly. "Sam, the studio wants the first version on Monday and all you have is a rough storyline and those few sketches. The comic book is not going to draw itself and I'm not about to forego my beauty sleep to spell-check it at four am on Monday."

Evan was smiling all through the speech and then chuckled, pressing another kiss on Blaine's lips, making them melt from the stern frown. "I'm totally pulling your leg, dude," he said, laughing. "I was finishing up, mostly. I'll give it to you for corrections tomorrow."

Blaine tried to pretend he didn't find it funny. "Well, you better. And you calling me dude right after kissing me is getting ridiculous." He pouted.

Sam had to agree with Blaine, but he knew himself and supposed that his future version probably did it to tease Blaine. It was a strange scene for Sam to watch. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that according to Blaine's comments, he was going to draw comic books for some studio. And did he understand correctly that there was going to be an exhibition of his works? He wondered if it was going to be the comic book drawings or something else.

He still didn't really know how he felt about being this way with Blaine. It seemed so effortless and easy, but Blaine and Evan also looked as if they were in their mid-twenties at least, so they'd probably had some time to get comfortable in this relationship. Right now, Sam could hardly imagine leaning down and just kiss Blaine without any kind of internal struggle. To reach out and wrap his arms casually around his best friend, pulling him closer, and look down at him with a teasing smile. It was just too intimate and he would be too aware of the hard lines and the muscles and all the indications that he was holding a man. He liked to hug Blaine, but a hug was a hug, not an intimate embrace. And how, for God's sake, did the future Sam deal with the beard?

"You should shave."

Oh, there was the answer.

Blaine laughed. "Look who's talking. Besides, my premier is a week away, until then, no one can complain."

"My thighs can," Evan shot back. "I still feel the blow job from yesterday."

If Sam had had a body, he would have been red from head to toe. Was it normal for Evan to refer to the private stuff so freely? On the other hand, Sam reminded himself, Evan thought he was alone with Blaine. It wasn't as if Sam had never talked sex with his bros in the locker room, even though this was a little different.

Well, yes, it was really different. Evan had been talking to his boyfriend, his lover, his partner in crime, if as least something had stayed the same since high school. So why not? Sam supposed it felt weird because he couldn't really imagine being with Blaine this way. Not yet. But somehow, he realized, _somehow_ he understood how it could happen, because the base was already there. There was no one he trusted more than Blaine. No one he was more himself with. It didn't seem so absurd he would one day start to wonder what it would be like to kiss Blaine. He wondered if he'd freak out once it would happen. No, he wondered _how much_ he'd freak out.

The future Blaine gave Evan a cheeky grin. "If you don't like my blow jobs, I can stop giving them."

Evan laughed. "Yeah, sure. I've heard that one before."

Blaine mocked a frown and pouted, looking like a petulant child. "You just wait. One day, I'm gonna keep that promise and you're gonna be sorry." He pretended to struggle when Evan pulled him into a longer kiss.

Sam supposed it should be strange to see himself kissing someone, not to mention a guy, from an outside point of view, but he was rather distracted by the way Blaine seemed to melt into Evan's embrace, how he returned the kiss as if it was the most natural and the most pleasurable thing in the world.

"You know shaving won't fix anything, right?" Blaine said quietly, almost mumbling against Evan's lips. "By the time we get to do anything my face will be scratchy anyway."

Evan chuckled. "You really need to stop taking me so seriously."

Blaine stared at him for a second, before he tipped his head back and groaned. "Why do you always do this?"

Sam was sure he had already heard Blaine say that before in the exact same tone. It was strangely comforting to see that some things hadn't changed, like himself calling Blaine "dude" or Blaine reacting this way when he was frustrated.

"You look cute when you're flustered." The future Sam shrugged.

Blaine rolled his eyes, but his lips couldn't hold back a pleased smile. "Is that why you married me? So you could make me flustered all the time?"

Those words hit Sam like a stone – another one. It did make sense they would get married, but for some reason, he just hadn't thought of that. Maybe because in his imagination he was still stuck in Ohio even in the future and he was pretty sure gay marriage wasn't allowed there. He tried to imagine himself at the altar, smiling at Blaine, holding his hands, saying his vows to him. He failed. _Right_, he reminded himself, _not ready yet. Just be patient._

Only when his thoughts stopped being too distracting and he could try to concentrate on Blaine and Evan, did he realize that he couldn't hear anything anymore. No words, no noises… He freaked out for a second, taking one last look at the couple, before his vision blurred and he closed his eyes and shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

The next thing he saw was the dark room and the woman in front of him, who was smiling sweetly, her head cocked slightly to the side.

"Alright?" she asked.

He blinked, not sure if she was joking or not, because he was anything but alright at the moment. He leaned back in his chair, letting his body relax slightly, though his mind was still reeling. He tried to take a deep breath, but the room was too hot and full of smoke and for a minute he was convinced there was fire. The woman looked calm though and he didn't see any flames anywhere, so he calmed down a little, trying not to cough.

There was a long silence. Sam had to think through everything he had seen and the woman was apparently giving him time to do that. In the meantime, she occupied herself by cleaning up and putting all the things back to their place. Then she returned to her seat and sat down, looking relaxed and content, patiently waiting until Sam decided to speak.

"Did you see what I saw?" Sam asked finally, thinking back to the blow job conversation.

She smiled. "Would it make you feel better if I said I didn't?"

He felt blood rising to his cheeks, but at the same time, he knew that her question had a point. Despite his embarrassment, it was much better to know that someone else had seen it too. It meant he wasn't crazy, it wasn't his imagination, he wasn't day-dreaming about a perfect life. It was his future.

Something was swirling inside of him, making him fidgety and slightly nervous. It took him a minute to realize that it was excitement. He hadn't been excited about anything for so long. It almost felt like too much and he quickly quenched it, afraid that it would make him burst.

This wasn't the end of his problems. He wasn't healed. This was just the beginning and he knew very well that he had a long way to go to become the guy he saw in the vision. But the knowledge that he could do it, that he had something to look forward to, to fight for, was definitely a good base.

He didn't really want to talk and didn't have any more questions and the woman didn't push him. He stood up to show her that he'd rather go now and she didn't stop him, only handed him back his medical assessment. He thanked her for everything and managed to give her a weak but honest smile as he shook her hand.

"Don't thank me," she said. "I didn't help you yet. I'll expect a gift basket in a few years though." She grinned mischievously, emphasizing again the striking contrast between her and their surroundings. Her smile didn't last long though as she grasped his hand between hers and gave him a serious look. "Just remember, Sam, that this future won't come without work. It's never set in stone. But as long as you do your best and try, you don't have to worry. I'm just warning you not to lay back and wait for happiness and success to come to you."

Sam nodded. He knew this much. He'd heard the stories about people who'd thought the vision of their future would happen no matter what. There were whole movies wrapped around this theme and there was even a magazine who did practically nothing else but offered advice on how to make the vision of your future come true. Most of it was complete rubbish, but many people believed it.

A part of him was relieved when he left the building and could finally breathe fresh air. But mostly, it just made him realize how different everything seemed now. He felt like he had been inside for months and now was going back to real life. Tomorrow he would come out of his house in the morning and like any other day, Blaine would be there, waiting to drive Sam to school, as he had been doing ever since Sam hadn't come to school three days in a row because he'd convinced himself he was too stupid to finish it anyway and he'd also felt too tired to leave his bed.

Blaine would say hi and smile at him and casually ask him about his appointment with the psychic. Sam would try to give some casual answer, not being able to look at Blaine for the fear of what he might see. Blaine would never look the same in Sam's eyes.

This was a point of no return, but for the first time in a really long time, Sam knew where he was going and, more importantly, that he doesn't have to make this journey alone. It's was worth it.

_One day, when he's sure, he will turn to Blaine and cut his rant about one of his Juilliard teachers off with a kiss. One day, when he's ready, he will lower himself on his knees, looking up at Blaine, his eyes shy, his cheeks burning, and he will give his first tentative blow job. And one day, when the time is right, he will take Blaine to his first exhibition a few hour before opening to make an awkward, disjointed speech about how he would never be able to do all this without Blaine, finished by a breathless: "Will you marry me?"_

THE END


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